


How About That?

by GettheSalt



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Mild spoilers for the film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/GettheSalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After assembly, after saving Manhattan (and, you know, the planet, but that’s no biggie), after shawarma, but before bidding the Asgardians off home, Clint and Natasha have a talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How About That?

If Clint is honest, the injury that he’s still feeling the morning after isn’t anything that he got during the fight for Manhattan. It’s the slightly tender sting that’s lingering on his forearm from Natasha’s bite (‘Really, Tasha?’ He’d asked before the event that was silent shawarma, ‘biting?’ to which she had only responded with a slight shrug) and the slight pounding behind his eyes from the walloping she gave him to kick start his ‘cognitive recalibration’. He figures that should probably say something about him. Or about the Chitauri and their lame excuse for a take-over attempt.

Okay, it was far from lame. Again, he’s holding off a headache the size of a small European country – Liechtenstein or Luxembourg would suffice – and can’t be blamed for the ways in which his mind will or will not work. Mostly ‘will not’. That, and while he’s cool with the rest of the Avengers, well, Natasha’s really the only one he’s trusting himself to talk to right now. If he talks to Stark, he’ll probably end up unleashing that headache. If he talks to Banner, he might end up unleashing the Hulk. If he talks to Steve, chances are he’d confuse the hell out of the poor guy in minutes (Does Rogers even know what extra strength Tylenol is)? And he runs the risk of running his mouth and ending up on the receiving end of a particularly nasty Norse ‘fistbump’ if he talks to Thor (who’s currently off somewhere collecting his shit-disturbing little brother for transport back to fairy world or whatever the hell it was).

(He knew it was Asgard. It didn’t hurt to be uppity and/or an asshole about it here and there, though. At least he wasn’t referring to it as the Globe Theatre. That would be pretty on par with the Shakespeare jokes that Tony had been making, but probably pack less of a punch when it came to Thor understanding.)

Speaking of Stark… Clint turned around from where he was leaning against the car S.H.I.E.L.D. provided for himself, Natasha and Bruce, eyes quickly picking out the people he wanted to see. They’d all agreed to show up to a) see Thor off; he was a member of the team now, and a team had to stick together and do team building exercises like contemplating whether or not the shawarma had given them food poisoning; and b) to make sure Loki was escorted off the planet and back to face whatever punishment his home had in store. The second Stark had arrived though, in true Stark fashion, top down on his luxury vehicle, suit perfectly pressed (and that was a first that Clint had seen that since he’d come back to his senses on the helicarrier), sunglasses on, he’d promptly been made the victim of a personal space invasion by Captain Rogers. Sure, it was just a real manly handshake that tapered off into continuing conversation, but Clint was seeing it as a personal space invasion, considering the fact that Tasha had told him how the two of them had been at each other’s throats until…

…Actually, it was better if he just didn’t dwell on Coulson’s fate. Not right now, when their job for the day was far from over.

Instead, he continued his mental headcount, locating Bruce next. And that was hardly a difficulty, considering the good doctor was sitting in the front passenger seat of the car he was currently leaning on, door propped open to let in the fresh air, head tipped back and eyes closed. The guy looked tired, dead tired, and Clint supposed that was forgivable. After what he and the Hulk had gone through yesterday, if he wasn’t feeling a little rundown, Clint would be raising eyebrows and drilling him with questions because damn that’d be impressive, and where could he get that kind of stamina?

That really only left the angsty brothers – who he knew the location of, even if he couldn’t see it – and Natasha. Natasha who was currently walking back towards him from a small gaggle of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that she’d been shooting the shit with. Everyone present and accounted for. He took a second to mentally pat himself on the back before tipping his chin at the Russian super spysassin approaching him. “Any good gossip?”

Natasha snorted, standing in the wing of the open rear passenger door and resting her forearm on top of it. “Hardly. But if you’re looking to hear them go over and over the fight Hulk and Thor had in the helicarrier, you be my guest.”

From inside the car, Bruce made a noise somewhere between a snort and a groan. “Please don’t.”Clint bent in half to grin at him, lifting his sunglasses just enough to make sure the other man could see the lack of ill intent in his eyes.

“I think I’ll just watch the highlights on the security feed once we get back to base. I like to see this stuff myself.” His crack had the effect he’d banked on, and Bruce smiled, that same, soft, tired smile he’d had for a while now, but a smile nonetheless, and shifted to get out of the car.

“I guess I can’t argue with you there. At least those highlights won’t include some harebrained ref jumping in front of a good shot, right?”

Clint chuckled, watching Bruce go to join Rogers and Stark, then turned back to Natasha. “Nice guy, Doc Banner.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes flicking from following Bruce’s retreating back to resting on Clint’s face. “Seems like.”

Rubbing a hand over his chin, Clint nodded, weighing his next words carefully. Natasha was the one person on the team who knew him, really knew him, and vis versa. It was because of that reason he was thinking over how to word his next question and not have her eying him sideways. “So,” Oh, good start, Barton. Hook her with the curiosity inspired by the ‘so’. “After all that, working as a team… You seem to have gone pretty, uh, Avenger.”

That was smooth and not at all awkwardly or horribly worded. He wouldn’t make a speech coach cringe with his oratory skills by any means.

Natasha’s only response was to raise one eyebrow, willing him to continue.

“Become part of a team, a big, integral part,” he clarified. “Especially since a few days ago, unless I’m wrong, you had that whole, mostly, lone ranger thing going on.”

“You’re one to talk,” she replied after a moment of frankly too silent silence. “You and I both know that even if you worked on teams for S.H.I.E.L.D., you’re up and away from everyone else and barely in contact unless it is absolutely necessary. ‘The hawk is in his nest’,” she recounted, unknowingly quoting Selvig only days before. Not that he was the first one to have said it. She was smiling, though, however slightly, and turned away from the car, swinging the door closed and walking slowly enough away from the car that Clint understood the unspoken invitation. In two strides he was at her side, brows furrowed as he watched her profile.

They walked like that for a few minutes, total silence between them. Not a heavy weight, but one that spoke promises if Clint would just be patient. And so he was, face falling into something less showing of confusion or interest, part of his mind getting caught up in watching the way the generic S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were rounding up and escorting civilians away from this area of the park. Smart move. Loki may be contained for now, but they were going to be giving him at least some form of autonomy, and they were going to be pulling the Tesseract out again. Stark had rolled up with that in the old silver briefcase that S.H.I.E.L.D. had kept it in over the years until Selvig and Project Pegasus had been activated. Loki would be one thing enough for the civilians to see, but letting Joe and Jane Average smack their eyeballs on Loki being sent off home with the Tesseract, that… Even if said civilians didn’t know what it was, it just wasn’t a very good front to present to the public.

A public which was already somewhat divided on who was to blame for the insanity that had broken out in Manhattan. Clint, personally, was still in favour of billing repairs for damages directly to Loki, but he didn’t exactly have decision making power on that.

“So.”

He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts and musings on what was about to happen that when Natasha finally spoke up, it caught him off guard and took him a second to catch up to what she was ‘so’-ing about. Nice of her to throw his stunning opener back at him. Judging by her tone, that had been her exact intent.

He waited a second for her to go on, and when she didn’t, asked, “What are you thinking?”

Natasha stopped, nodding to one of the suited agents as he passed, before turning to face Clint. “I’m thinking we worked well back there,” she said with a small shrug of her shoulders. “We – I mean, all of us – saved a lot of lives. And did the damn near impossible, considering the situation we went into.”

Clint bit back the ‘that’s quite a bit of red out of your ledger’ comment that tap-danced its way across his tongue. “And we were champs and had shawarma for the first time.”

A brief flicker of disgust flashed across Natasha’s face, her eyes flicking heavenwards in the most subtle of eye rolls. “Don’t remind me. I’m still feeling it now.”

He laughed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and rocking back on his heels for a second while he juggled the words in his head. It was a foregone conclusion for Fury, and he knew that, but Tasha wasn’t exactly so cut and dry all the time, and he liked to know what was going on it her head. When she’d let him in. “So then, we’re a team, yeah? You gonna hang around for a while?”

Instead of answering him then, the redhead’s response was to turn and keep walking at the same leisurely pace they’d been walking at before. Clint followed along dutifully, following her lead when she turned them back towards where all the S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles were gathered. They’d nearly reached the end of the perimeter that had been cleared for the send-off, so it only made sense to head back rather than press on outside that safe circle.

“If there’s work, I go where the work is. I know Fury hasn’t said it yet, but as far as The Avengers go, I don’t think we’re on active duty after today, Clint.”

That wasn’t exactly surprising, and had been about the answer that he’d expected. Natasha, for as open as she was with him, especially out here in the middle of Central Park, wasn’t going to lay out each and every one of her plans for the immediate to short-term future. He nodded, letting out a big breath and looking upwards. Fine day for a trip back to fairy world. The sky was blue and the clouds were big and white and puffy. The gesture, though, and the continued stance of having his hands in his pockets, wasn’t lost on Natasha.

“What?”

There wasn’t really anything to say – at least not with Johnny Sunglasses over there watching them while radioing that Thor and Loki were being prepped to leave the holding area (finally) and would be there shortly. Another shrug, another silence, comfortable if not a little spiny between them. That lasted until they got back to where their S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle was parked. Clint took up his old stance, leaning on the open door where Bruce had been sitting (and Bruce was deep in conversation with Tony now, Steve still standing close by but looking a little lost on the topic), body turned towards Natasha, his left arm hooked over the top.

“See, I asked because I was hoping you might stay aboveground long enough to, uh, go to dinner with me?”

To her credit, Natasha’s face didn’t give anything away. And it wouldn’t. This wasn’t exactly the first time he’d asked, and if she accepted, that certainly wouldn’t be a first either. Their relationship had too many facets to count, sometimes, and Clint couldn’t help but weigh and gauge when and where he was able to ask questions like that. Natasha was, among many other things, a co-worker, a partner, and a bedmate. He’d say lover, they weren’t strangers to the intimacy of the act, but, to be fair, he couldn’t be entirely sure that title really pinpointed what they were.

“Clint, are you asking me out? And have you been taking pointers from a fifteen year old boy since the last time you asked?”

Ooh, cut it right down to what it was. Clint shot her a cheeky grin, quirking an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”

If Thor wasn’t such a big, damn near impervious dude, Clint might have taken him on, because the moment Tasha opened her mouth to answer him was the moment the thunder god came into view, one hand on his coo-coo for crazy puffs brother’s elbow, and she nodded in their direction in favour of answering him. “Show time.”

“And then dinner?” Clint pressed, not willing to let the conversation go so fast. “I promise, no shawarma.”

The look Natasha gave him, if he was honest, sent a jolt of electricity through him, from the top of his head right to the soles of his feet. And fuck if that wasn’t just corny as all get out. “How about we make plans once Thor’s taken Loki back to Asgard?”

Clint mock frowned, raising his eyebrows and tipping his head to the side while he pretended to think about it. “I guess that’s all right. Just make sure you remember, because, you know, concussion and all, I could black out and forget my name at any minute, and how would I remember that we had a date then?” He curled his fingers in the sides of the jacket and hoodie he wore, pulling it up, and then glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey, Stark!” He waited while Tony, Bruce and Steve all looked up and then caught sight of the two demi-gods. “Time to break a bottle of champagne on this ship and send it off.”

He didn’t miss the eye roll or the amused curve of the lips on Natasha’s face as she turned to walk away. Not then, and not once they were climbing back in the car. Bruce was going off with Tony, probably to go be great big geeks together. A broadly smiling Steve had climbed on his motorcycle and sped off, and of course, Thor and Loki had been zipped back to their home planet. Natasha stretched her legs out, the heels of her boots digging into the foot well of the car, then leaned her elbow on the middle compartment that doubled as an armrest, chin cradled in her hand.

“I hope you don’t think I’m going to go all mushy and gushy on you this time, just because we saved the world yesterday.”

Clint chuckled, turning the key in the ignition and listening to the engine fire up. “I wouldn’t dream of it. A softer, mushier Natasha Romanoff isn’t who I asked out for dinner.”

Natasha reached over and squeezed his forearm before she straightened in her own seat, lifting her sunglasses from the dashboard. “This isn’t just dinner, is it, Clint?”

Leaning his foot on the gas, and following the distant form that was Tony’s car, Clint mulled that over in his head. Fact was, it could just be dinner, but something in the sidecar of his brain was prattling on about needing to be honest with himself, and admitting that maybe, just maybe, there was more to what he was doing than hoping for a dinner date.

“Well, if you’re in a frisky mood, you can always come back to my place later, and—”

He glanced over just long enough to catch the look Natasha was giving him.

He hadn’t been taking pointers from a fifteen year old. He’d full-on traded romantic emotional maturity with one, if the persistent tight feeling in his chest that he’d always been able to write off before was any indication.

Only he would be enough of a fool to fall in love with the Black Widow. And only he would be enough of a fool to shrug it off with a grin, spin the wheel and tear on towards the highway. Emoting while driving was probably just as bad as texting while driving. It could wait.

Besides, emotions complicated things. It was better to enjoy their sparking friendship-slash-casual-fuck-buddy-partnership than put everything on the line to lose it all. You didn’t often come by friends in their line of work, and they’d been at it a long time. Bringing emotions in would complicate things and heighten their shared personal danger risk.

No, it wasn’t happy and cheery and the stuff of romantic comedies. What it was was the responsible way to go about it. So Clint tamped down on the tightness in his chest, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and shrugged, reaching over to flick on the radio.

“Ya caught me, Tasha. Dinner and dessert, and maybe if you’re real nice, even a movie. Look at me, that’s almost a regular date. How about that?”


End file.
